


Burning For Gold

by clover71



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BDSM, M/M, Post - Deathly Hallows, Wax
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-18
Updated: 2011-11-18
Packaged: 2017-10-26 05:55:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/279474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clover71/pseuds/clover71
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With one last glance at the address written on a torn parchment in his hand, Draco Malfoy stopped in front of a small pub that Harry Potter owned and heaved a deep breath before pushing the door open, unmindful that the moment he stepped inside the tiny establishment, he was likewise stepping into a new chapter of his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burning For Gold

**Author's Note:**

> \- This is long delayed because I'm too lazy to post it anywhere other than my fan fic journal. I wrote this as a birthday gift to my friend 9 months ago. Based on radcliffe_bass' prompts : club!fic, Harry tops Draco, UST, canon, years after war.  
> \- This is the first Harry Potter fan fiction I've ever written. Please note that I'm not familiar with British English or britpick, so this fic ended up mostly 'Americanized' and partly britpick - I think. English isn't my primary language, if I may add.  
> \- Inspired by a handful of bonding and fixation and BDSM fics I've read.  
> \- The title of this fic and the titles of the short chapters were all from the lyrics of the song _'Silver'_ by David Cook, which I do not claim ownership and is owned by David Cook and his label.
> 
> Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are owned by JK Rowling. I do not claim rights and ownership of these characters. None of the contents in this fan fiction pertains to the actual story. This is only created based on the author's imagination and for non-profitable purpose. No copyright infringement intended.

~ start ~

**1 – when writing your history**  
 _word prompt: insanity_

It started with a dream – something that left Draco shaking, yearning for something he couldn't fathom at first. The images he'd seen were carved in his mind, constantly haunting him now, even when awake.

When he'd sought help, he never expected to run to Hermione. She was the one person he least expected to end up being his friend, to Ron's chagrin, of course.

"Maybe you're just wondering where Harry could be like some of us" were Hermione's first theory, which was ridiculous in Draco's opinion and he was half tempted to tell her what the dream was about in details.

He tried to convince himself that it would go away. But then two months drifted by and he still dreamed of Harry every night – of Harry's hands exploring every inch of his bare skin, of Harry's lips burning hot against his own, of the unimaginable things that Harry did to him – and it always left Draco nearly out of breath.

_'Shit.'_

Three months. Three freaking months had passed since the recurring dreams started and Draco just woke up from one. He ran a hand over his face, wiping away the thin layer of sweat. _'It will go away'_ , he thought and let his back hit the mattress, ignoring the fog that had settled around him – swirling from vibrant pink to hot red.

When Draco could no longer shake off the vestiges of these… these images, he decided to tell Hermione. In a less explicit version. Then opportunity presented itself, eventually.

The ministry had appointed Hermione as High Inquisitor at Hogwarts this year and she was sent to conduct the annual inspection, making sure that the school kept to the Ministry's code. It was a shitty job, but she claimed that she considered it a break from the more stressful day-to-day events at the Ministry.

Since Ron had been sent to Wales to investigate some disturbing activities concerning low-profile wizards, Hermione had requested for Draco to accompany her instead. It was, after all, a requisite for Ministry Officials to always travel with an auror.

Class hours were over and Hermione had literally dragged Draco to the Three Broomsticks when he asked if they could talk.

"You're not bonded with him in any way, are you? Don't you have a life debt, perhaps?" Hermione had taken a sip of her butterbeer, something she loved to have every time they had the privilege to visit Hogsmeade.

Draco shook his head, said, "No. Not that I remember," and downed his own drink.

Hermione had turned pensive, muttered, "It couldn't be nothing," under her breath and Draco couldn't agree with her more. "Well, who knows? It could still go away."

It didn't.

Six months had gone by and the dream hadn't stopped. Then seven. Then ten. Now a year after, and Draco had grown from confused to utterly disturbed. He'd lost focus and had been suspended from his auror duties.

"You should go see him – Harry. Maybe then you can get some answers,"" Hermione suggested, her eyes cloaked with layers of concern.

Desperation now burned through Draco like poison. No matter how much he wanted to acquiesce, there was still an underlying problem. "I don't even know where to find him."

What Draco didn't expect was for Ron to speak up. "I do." It didn't come as a surprise for Draco to hear that Ron had managed to keep in touch with his friend though, so he kind of knew Ron would say, "I know where Harry is," next.

  
 **2 – will always be a footnote**  
 _word prompt: serendipity_

Some people would call it luck but Harry Potter knew he had worked hard to get to where he was. It wasn't like his business was huge but considering the location and the size of his pub, the success had at least surpassed his expectation.

His pub had now tried to come up with events – like Mondays were "Karaoke Night" and Wednesdays would be 'Ladies' Night' and Fridays, 'Sports Night' and 'Open Mic Night' on Saturdays, just to keep the customers interested.

Harry was glad he listened to his assistant's advice as well. Mel had been long trying to convince him to keep the pub open during daytime rather than only at nights. Only one month since they started with daytime business and the profits hadn't exactly skyrocketed, but the new scheme did help add up to the numbers.

Tuesdays and Thursdays were normally idle. Harry hadn't exactly found any logical reason but it had molded a routine for him and his employees. They were just glad there were days when they could relax more and not be on their toes the whole time.

A few customers had poured in since seven that evening. The pub was almost half full, which was unusual for a Thursday night.

Apart from the regular customers, there was a group of young men and women that occupied around three tables joined together. This was the first time Harry had seen any of them. The fact that these people were all good-looking led Harry to presume they were a new batch of models from the small modeling agency across the street.

Harry paused near the entry that separated the main pub to the kitchen to breathe in the scenario. This was a complete opposite of the life that he once knew and lived for seven years. The life he chose to lock up in a chest and bury somewhere deep in his hidden past.

The nostalgia swept through him like a gust of wind and his hand instantly flew to his forehead, mindlessly tracing the scar shaped like lighting with his fingertips. The scar that had been slowly fading for the last five years but it was still there and it served as a bookmark of Harry's history.

He shook off of his shallow musing just as Mel leaned over, said, "We have a situation. Sort of," with a look that could steer Harry over the edge of panic.

"What is it?"

"Our bartender called and said he has the shingles virus. It's quite contagious so he was ordered by his doctor to take at least twenty days off." Mel obviously tried to make it sound like it wasn't a big deal. "I managed to convince Kurt to take over the bar just for the night and Liam had agreed to extend his shift to cover for Kurt's tables."

"Just for the night?" This seemed like a perfect time for Harry to lose his composure.

"Yeah. But don't worry, Liam had already placed a sign outside to let passersby know we're in need of a temporary bartender," Mel said with an optimism and determination that Harry had always admired. She reminded him sometimes of Mrs. Weasley.

With the pros and cons of not having his only bartender around for more than half a month swirling in his head, Harry hadn't noticed the door open and Mel's enthusiastic "oh hello there! Are you interested in the job?" didn't totally register in his mind.

When Harry heard a fairly familiar voice say, "Yes, but I'm afraid I don't have any experience at all," his head snapped up. His heart plummeted to the ground when he saw the young man oozing with the same confidence Harry remembered. His white blond hair had the same short cut but wasn't as slick as it was a long time ago.

"Draco." The name slipped out of Harry's lips like a secret spell.

Despite the confidence Draco wore, there was timidity in his gaze and in his voice when he said, "Hello Harry."

Whatever it was that vibrated between them was disrupted when Mel spoke. "Oh! So you know each other?"

It took a while before Harry could come up with an appropriate answer. "We met at school."

There wasn't any need to elaborate. Mel seemed to buy it and without any reluctance, she said, "Well, I guess that means you know him enough to trust him and trust him enough to hire him. Right, Harry?"

Harry wasn't entirely sure what he said in response. His mind was caught in a whirlwind of memories; of images of his past; of the fact that one of the reasons (or perhaps the only reason) Harry left the wizarding world was right there, standing a few feet from him.

He must've uttered some form of agreement since Mel clapped her hand once, said, "Great!" then hooked an arm around Draco's. "You're hired then. Now I'll have to ask you to fill up some forms and then I'll have Kurt teach you the ropes."

  
 **3 – a distant memory**  
 _word prompt: breeze_

Cool draft seeped through the gap in Draco's window, shoving away the slightest warmth that lingered in his still dark room. Yet, despite the chill, his skin was ironically coated with sweat, beads of it rolled down his forehead, settling on the tip of his eyelashes like liquid crystal.

His chest stung, as if a double-edged blade had been driven through him and he pressed the heel of his hand against the center of his rib cage, desperately trying to ease the pain. His sharp breaths came in short, sporadic cadence as if he had just run fifty miles or a hundred.

Vestiges of the dream he just had – a white, cloudy haze – swayed just above the surface of his eyes, like mist blending with the gray shadows that drifted around him.

_'Crap.'_

It had just gotten worse. Draco thought that the dream would become less intense once he saw Harry, but it had only gotten worse.

Maybe Hermione was right. Maybe at some point in his life – between now and five years ago – he was cursed with an obligation, a life debt, and he had only forgotten. _'Forgotten? Ha!'_ Or maybe… maybe he had indeed lost his mind.

 _'Whatever.'_ There was no turning back now. He'd set foot on the muggle world – an unfamiliar territory – not by free will but by this _I-have-no-choice-or-I-will-go-mad_ yearning that had a tight grip on his heart and his mind. This was a situation he wouldn’t dare go through if it hadn’t been for this – this feverish desire that had been keeping him hot and burning from the pit of his stomach, setting layers and layers of his skin on fire.

The breeze brushed against his skin, slinking across every inch of his body. Draco bolted out of bed and rushed over to close the window, silently cursing the cold, the broken heater and this dingy room that muggles called 'flat', which was right above the hole-in-the-wall bar that Harry owned.

The once _boy-who-lived_ had been quite intent to stay away from the wizarding world. For what reason, Draco had no clue. He wasn't even sure he'd like to find out.

So much for thinking that there was no shit way he would set foot on this side of existence. Now he was stuck. Trapped, perhaps.

Walking might help clear his head. Draco changed into his warmest clothes and made his way down the narrow stairs that led directly to the pub's backroom. He was almost out the main door when someone spoke.

"You're up early."

Draco stopped short, startled to realise that someone was lounging inside the pub at this ungodly hour and worse… it was Harry. His hand hovered over the door knob for a heartbeat before he let it drop and turned to face possible embarrassment.

Traces of sleep were still evident behind the black-rimmed glasses and the blue-gray shirt with torn hem that hang loosely over a pair of worn sweatpants were creased in visible places. Harry had a cup of steaming liquid sitting on one hand and a rolled up newspaper on the other.

The sight Draco took in triggered some kind of pain to coil tightly in his upper abdomen. He caught a whiff of Harry – all musky and like a faded scent of spice. It made the room spin and the floor tilt underneath Draco's feet, prompting him to lean against the door for support.

Draco slipped his hands in the front pockets of his hoodie, said, "Speak for yourself," when he finally found his voice. The remark might have sounded slightly catty, but it didn't seem to have any negative effect on Harry. He constantly shifted his weight from one leg to the other, pantomiming uneasiness.

"Were you on your way out?" Harry asked, tilting his head to one side as if he was trying to read Draco's mind.

But Draco figured it was absurd to think that Harry could be practicing legilimency so he pushed it out of his head, shrugged nonchalantly and said, "Yeah, I thought I'd take a walk. Couldn't go back to sleep."

"Oh." Harry gazed around the room for a few wordless seconds, like he was avoiding Draco's eyes on purpose. Draco could only imagine a thousand strands of thoughts unraveling in Harry's head. But the only words that came out of Harry's mouth was "okay, have a good walk then."

  
 **4 – a warning sign of mistakes made**  
 _word prompt: glass_

It was just a bloody piece of glass, for Merlin's sake. Harry knew it was absurd to think that Draco dropped it on purpose. Besides, it shouldn't have been a big deal. Either one of them could easily fix it with a _reparo_ spell. But something boiled inside Harry and he couldn't help but get so worked up and fume over it.

"You should've been more careful!" Harry's voice had taken an octave higher. He hadn't meant to yell, but if he didn't, he might end up exploding anyway.

Draco seemed to mirror his ire and bellowed, "I already said I'm sorry!"

It was when Harry opened his mouth, most likely to retort, that his assistant, Melaine Fogler, spoke up, said, "Look, Harry. It was an accident, okay?"

The smoke of anger that was radiating off of Harry slowly diffused but Harry could still feel something – frustration or irritation or agitation or… whatever – vibrating throughout his body. "Fine then. You better clean it up before people start pouring in," in a reticent way. Harry made a move to leave but then he stopped and faced Draco once more. "Leave the bar to Kurt. You're going to wait and serve at tables tonight."

"Like I have any other choice," Draco muttered before dashing into the kitchen.

Counting up to twenty in his head proved to be effective for Harry. He managed to keep his temper under control or else he would have been a heartbeat close to strangling Draco Malfoy. He only snapped out of his inner fuming when someone snorted then he heard Kurt say, "U-S-T."

It took a while before Harry's preoccupied mind caught up with what Kurt said and Harry blurted, "Excuse me?"

"Nothing" was the terse response he got before everyone around him dispersed.

  
 **5 – taking pills for solemn motive**  
 _word prompt: illusion_

"You still haven't told me why you came seeking employment here in the muggle world" came Harry's voice, startling Draco and making him jump slightly. He was too deep in thought that he hadn't sensed someone came up behind him. And Harry should really, _really_ stop sneaking up on him like that.

"Huh?"

"I thought you were—" Harry turned his head to steal a glance behind him before leaning closer, added, "I thought you were an auror at the Ministry," softly.

"Um…" What in the wizarding world would Draco tell Harry? The truth?

"Well?" Harry's eyebrow was raised, a look that could have meant Harry was expecting Draco to say something crossed Harry's face, but Draco could hardly remember what Harry's words were. Harry must have sensed this. He cleared his throat and asked, "Why did you come here? You haven't exactly given me a reason."

It was like a light bulb had been switched inside Draco's head and he was quick to snap a return. "I'll tell you, if you tell me why you chose to lead a life here in the muggle world despite the fact that you're much needed in the wizarding community."

There was a visible shift in Harry's aura, the lively orange and yellow morphing to different shades of gray. It blended well with the tension that rapidly grew thick in the stock room.

"Why I came here is my own business." Harry spoke with a hard edge in his voice. "While I have the slightest interest to know your reason since you're under my employment. But you have every right to privacy, so I won't ask again if you don't want to tell."

Draco didn't exactly know how to respond so he ended up muttering, "Thank you," in a dry, laconic manner. He wasn't sure if it was just an illusion but he thought he saw a gleam of hurt that went past Harry's eyes.

Guilt surged through Draco like a river of fire, scorching his conscience. When Harry nodded, said, "Later," and turned to leave, Draco felt something heavy settle in his chest.

"Wait." Draco couldn't even hide the desperation in his tone. "I uh… I came here because I thought I needed a change of environment." He told Harry about getting suspended but left out the real reason why, twisted the truth a little and led Harry to believe he'd been unhappy.

Lines appeared on Harry's forehead, showing traces of skepticism. But then again, it could be another illusion since Harry said, "I know how that must feel. You can stay here as long as you want then," in a lighter tone. He strode out of the room with ease but Draco felt ironically burdened with a weight that kept him anchored on the spot.

One thing Draco had noticed was whenever Harry was near him, the ache that twisted his innards would ease up and when Harry was away, the pain would resurface, building an urge to have Harry close once more.

It had started to become a pattern. A pretty scary thought in more ways than one. And Draco was certain this wasn't an illusion at all.

 

 

**6 – a better side**  
 _word prompt: soul_

Harry felt like his soul was being ripped apart, bared of all the secrets he hid deep within him. He bolted upright, panting, not certain where he was at the time. The disorientation faded eventually and Harry blinked against the veil of darkness.

It had been years since he had that kind of dream. It wasn't at all unpleasant, quite the opposite, actually. But it was… mind-boggling.

The whiff of Draco's cologne, which Harry caught in that rather erotic dream, still clung to his nose. Harry nearly fell off the bed when a knock startled him back to reality, followed by Draco's voice. "Harry? You alright?"

The mere sound of Draco's voice – husky and still laced with sleep – sent chills all over Harry's body. "I'm… I'm fine."

"May I come in?"

 _'No. Don't.'_ Harry thought he'd locked the door, anyway. But then again, it was Draco at the other side of his bedroom door. And how did he get inside Harry's flat, anyway? When Harry didn't say a word, he heard a hushed 'alohomora' followed by a click. He felt helpless when the door was pushed open and Draco strode inside, wand in hand.

"Y-you're not supposed to use magic. We did agree on that, didn't we?" Harry felt strangely cold and warm all over.

"Sorry. But I heard you yelling. And you were making these strange and rather loud noises." Draco edged closer, the faint light slicing through the thin fabric of the curtains touched Draco's face, giving a soft glow that made Draco look somewhat like how he did five years ago. "Figured you were having a nightmare or some sorts."

When Draco sat warily on the edge of Harry's bed, the corner of his lips curled into a small smile, Harry was swept with a wave of emotions that made him dizzy.

"Uh—I'm okay now." Harry's voice cracked there was a quiver around the edges, making him sound less convincing.

"Sure?" Draco laid a hand over Harry's blanket-covered leg and even through its thickness, he could feel the warmth of Draco's palm and it sent tingles coursing through his skin.

"I'm fine." It took great effort to keep his voice steady this time. Harry reached for his glasses from the bedside table and nearly lost his balance. Draco's hand shot straight to his arm, grabbing him to guide him back on the mattress.

The skin to skin touch ignited something inside Harry. It was as if a filament of their souls intertwined and for a moment, they were bonded, minds connected, thoughts mingling in green and gray shafts of light.

Draco must have sensed Harry's emotions. Either that or the same effect washed through him because he quickly ripped his hand off of Harry's arm as if he was burned. But instead of seeing fear or confusion veil over Draco's eyes like Harry expected, he saw a mantle of tranquility, of undisturbed surface of a calm lake – wide and bluish gray and pretty.

Something shifted between them, between the wordless minutes that danced around them. And for the first time since Draco hopped back into his life, Harry felt at ease at their proximity, like something inside him was partly healed. Partly.

"I—if you're certain you're okay, I'll um… I'll go back to my room now." Draco was up on his feet in an instant but made his way to the door in a snail pace.

Harry could only nod and say, "Thanks. You know. For coming," stupidly.

"Good night, Harry." It sounded like a promise— that Draco would be seeing Harry tomorrow, hopefully in a better light.

  
 **7 – an open mind**  
 _word prompt: question_

The room seemed to be shrinking, walls drawing closer around him. But that didn't stop Draco from pacing. He'd been walking back and forth in the small space of Ron and Hermione's living room.

"You're starting to make me feel really dizzy." Hermione's voice reminded him where he was and he stopped briefly enough to give Hermione a look he hoped translated his thoughts, hoped Hermione understood he was desperate for her advice – anything that could enlighten him.

His almost inaudible 'I'm sorry' echoed in his own ears and he was sure he looked utterly pitiful at the moment. He did his best to tell Hermione what had transpired three nights ago. The feeling was still fresh in his mind, as if that brief shared moment in Harry's room had been carved in his hindbrain.

Draco could still feel the strange sensation, like static, on his palm. It was stronger when he had touched Harry's arm. He shouldn't have gone to Harry's flat, to Harry's room when he heard Harry yelling and moaning and... But the pull was so strong, as if Draco could almost feel the current of Harry's nightmare coursing through his own veins.

The morning after, Draco felt this stronger urge to be close to Harry all the time, stronger than when he started having the recurring dreams. It was as if being near Harry healed the ache that twisted tightly in his gut and eased the painful throbbing in his head.

But… but…

Having Harry in close proximity didn't seem to be enough anymore. Draco wanted more, wanted to feel Harry's skin against his own, wanted to feel Harry's body pressed against his, wanted to feel Harry's breath against his lips.

This had been driving him mad. For three days, he had suffered the agonizing shivers that ran through his body, the constant drying of his mouth and the tightness in his chest.

What the fuck was going on with him?

In desperation, he sought out Hermione's help once more. There wasn't anyone he could trust enough who wouldn't easily conclude that he had gone mental.

To Draco's surprise, Ron stuck around to hear him out and was now looking at him with what he could only guess was sympathy.

"Draco," Hermione said, her tone edged with the same tenacity she held when throwing her opinions during Ministry Council meetings. "I think I know what's going on."

Even Ron straightened up, interest lining his pale, freckled face.

Draco chose not to utter a word, just gazed at Hermione with expectation, silently coaxing her to continue. She ran her hands through her face, heaved a sigh and said, "I think you have a serious case of fixation."

"A what?" Draco and Ron chorused.

Hermione rose to her feet, clutched Draco's arms and looked straight into his eyes. "I'm not entirely sure about this." Her eyes said otherwise though. There was a depth of certainty in her gaze somehow. "I don’t even know if this normally happens to wizards and witches, but it does to some non-magical folks. I know someone, a psychiatrist, who can tell for sure."

 

 

**8 – the kind that you burn from**  
 _word prompt: flame_

This wasn't really happening. It must be just another dream. Harry was so tempted to hit his head hard against the nearest wall only to wake up from this… this ridiculousness that he was witnessing.

"He's what?" It was hard to keep his eyes from wandering over to where Draco was seated. But he managed to keep his gaze on the psychiatrist that Hermione brought with her instead.

Dr. Haima Chaturverdi sighed. She must've explained it half a dozen times already but none of what she had said had sank in completely. Or maybe Harry was too much in denial. Not that he knew exactly what fixation was, hadn't heard of anything like it, really.

"Look, Mr. Potter. I could go on with a lengthy clinical Freudian explanation but I don't want to confuse you and Mr. Malfoy any further," the muggle doctor said, every word laced with frustration. "I know this may sound ridiculous to you but I'm afraid this is a serious matter. Based on the results of the tests, Draco is suffering from second stage of fixation." The way that good doctor explained how it could cause psychological imbalance made Harry think that Draco had gone mental.

"Okay," Harry said stupidly and his gaze fell on Draco on impulse. Something in Harry's chest twisted when he saw the woeful looked that shrouded Draco as if several dementors were hovering above him. He couldn't believe what he just heard, couldn't believe that Draco was fixated on him. What if… What if… "What um… w-what do we do now?"

There was a strange rigour that thrummed in the air and Harry wasn't sure if it was just his imagination, but Hermione and Ron couldn't seem to meet his gaze. Hermione's eyes darted around his small office and Ron seemed to have found the tear on the couch's arm interesting, his fingers pulling on the loose threads.

The silence was only disrupted when Dr. Chaturverdi spoke. "You actually have an option, Mr. Potter."

"Please. Call me Harry." The formality was only adding weight to the oppression that rested on his shoulders and it made Harry shudder every time he heard the doctor address him as such.

"Alright, Harry." The muggle doctor shifted in her seat, her face masked with solemnity that made Harry want to head for the hills right at that moment. "What Draco needs is some form of gratification, a way to satisfy his urges and the only one who could give that to him is his object of fixation." Her eyes bore into his own, as if she was breaking a crack on the surface of his soul. She blinked only once and without faltering, said, "You, Harry."

"I… I can't ask Harry to do that" were the first words that Draco said ever since they all gathered inside Harry's office. "I'm pretty sure there are spel—um… special ways. I could um, I could go to um…" Draco's eyes flitted over to Hermione, fogged with an unspoken message and Harry could only guess that Draco was silently seeking for Hermione's help.

"Therapy" is what Hermione supplied.

"Yes. Therapy." Draco's face brightened a little – better than looking like a ghoul who had been stuck in an old attic for a hundred years.

Harry couldn't help but breathe in hope, anticipating to hear that there were other options that may help Draco without dragging him into it. But the lack of change on the doctor's façade crushed every ounce of his optimism.

"You may, yes," Dr. Chaturverdi told Draco but she hardly sounded encouraging in Harry's opinion. "But there is only a slim possibility it could work. Thirty-five percent of recorded cases didn't respond well to therapy alone."

"What else can we do then?" Harry was curious, not entirely for Draco's sake, no. Just. Curious.

"Again, let me point out that you have a choice to agree or not to" was how Dr. Chaturverdi started and Harry thought that she would beat around the bush, dance around the subject, but he thought wrong. "Because of the fact that Mr. Malfoy's fixation is sexual in nature, you can simply gratify his… well, sexual urges," she said, not losing a thread of professionalism in the manner she spoke.

The way she said 'simply' was too convincing that Harry's first thought was that this process would really be that simple. Then the doctor's words caught up with him. "I can what?"

It was either his voice wasn't loud enough or the doctor chose to ignore him. She went on saying, "First, you must agree to go through a bonding process since this is a progressive treatment. We can't risk having you bail out in the middle of it."

"H-how long exactly would the treatment take?" Harry had to know, right? Because this – Just—It was—This was utter madness. He couldn't just wind his life around someone who… who had been cruel to him all his years at Hogwarts. Okay, maybe digging up the past wasn't the best idea, but still…

"No one can tell for certain" was the only answer that the doctor could give. She did elaborate that this was a case-to-case basis and hoped for the best, which wasn't too heartening.

"How long?" Harry repeated, insistently this time.

"Three… Four months, maybe?" Dr. Chaturverdi cleared her throat and dropped her gaze on the floor. Harry could sense the barrier that the doctor had conveniently wrapped around her breaking. "There are some cases, although rare, that lasted a year."

"A year?" Harry's voice jumped a decibel higher. He could hear his heartbeat echoing in his ears. This… this was completely rubbish. "Uh-I c-can't."

Dr. Chaturverdi failed to remain impassive this time. The stoic look on her face melted and was soon replaced with a soft veil of compassion. "Like I said, Harry, this is your choice now. If you refuse, then I can lean on the option of sending Mr. Malfoy to therapy."

Harry buried his face in his hands and heaved a long, deep breath.

"Harry." Hermione's voice, soft and laced with worry, broke through his self-deprecating cogitation, coaxing Harry to look up and drown in the depth of her emotion-filled gaze. "Dr. Haima did point out that therapy isn't a guarantee. I don't think you have it in your heart to let Draco just… just…"

"Go mad," Ron said when Hermione seemed to be at a loss for words, her shoulders sagging as if in defeat.

Before Harry could speak, Draco sprang on his feet, said, "No. Harry… he doesn't need to… I c-can't ask him to do this. I'll just… I'll," then turned on his heel and dashed out of the room.

Harry suddenly felt such an arse, guilt surging through him hot and scorching, like his blood had turned into acid and his entrails bursting into flames.

_'Fuck, fuck, fuck.'_

A warm, light touch on his shoulder, almost made Harry jump. Dr. Chaturverdi smiled down at him, something glimmering in her eyes – concern, perhaps, or… or pity. "Think about it, Harry." She handed him a small piece of hard paper – a calling card. "Call me in case you change your mind" were the doctor's last words before she bid everyone left in the room farewell.

The room was quiet for a while. Hermione and Ron's thoughts pulsated in sporadic brain waves that Harry could feel like static against his skin.

"There… there must be something magical we could do. Like um… like the memory charm, perhaps?" Harry knew that was a desperate call, but hell… He was desperate, after all.

"Oh yeah. Of course," Ron said, throwing both arms in the air. "That would be simple, ain't it, mate? Just erase every single thread of your memory from Draco's mind? Were you even listening to the doctor, Harry?"

He was. But Harry must've missed the part that might have suggested anything magical wouldn't work at all. A disarray of thoughts swirled around his head, leaving him perplexed. This must have molded an expression on his face because Hermione rolled her eyes when his gaze fell on her.

"Harry. There are some things in this world that cannot easily be solved through magic. It's just…" Hermione paused, her chest rising and falling as she heaved a sigh before she spoke again. "It's just too risky – too dangerous, Harry. I'm not saying it's not an option. But do you really want to take the risk?"

In all honesty, Harry didn't know. He didn't know what to think, didn't know how to feel. It was as if he was caught in a riverbend and now he was uncertain whether he should choose the path with a smoother course. Or should he be brave enough to follow the white rush of the rough, wild one?

  
 **9 – this song is so out of key**  
 _word prompt: bridge_

Words cut deep, Draco deemed, and Harry's voice still rang in his ears. Even days later. _'I can't.'_ Those two words quivered within him as a constant reminder of Harry's rejection.

He could hardly look Harry in the eye for the past few days and Harry –- he barely said more than five words to Draco every time they crossed paths. And that didn't happen too often either. It was like… it was like Harry was avoiding him. That was even more painful for Draco to realise.

The lack of close proximity wouldn't have mattered, but the ache it caused, the sharp pang in his chest and the twinge in his gut – like the tip of a dagger was being twisted right through his viscera – had become too unbearable to ignore.

One way to distract himself was to fumble on his guitar, something he learned to play a couple of years ago. He was glad Ron was kind enough to bring it over the other day. "Your mum thought you might need it," Ron had said before launching into a lengthy story about Draco's mum dropping by the ministry when she'd heard from Mrs. Weasley that Ron and Hermione might be visiting Draco during the weekend.

It helped a little, kept at least half of his mind off of Harry for a tranquil part of the hour. It was strange, if anyone would find out, how he'd become a bit musically inclined after seeing the Weird Sisters perform at the Yule Ball during his fourth year at Hogwarts and again during the liberty concert that the Ministry of Magic had thrown months after the war.

Those were memories that gently splashed colors over the dark mantle that had cloaked Draco's life. Memories he'd tucked deep within him like treasure – jewels that sparked a lighter, more motivated part of his being.

It was during that liberty concert when he'd first held Harry's hand in unity, when they, along with the then-students of the school, had sung the Hogwarts' hymn. In one sychronised tune. Inappropriate as it was for the occasion. It was also the first time he truly saw Harry as someone different, rather than in the shape of an enemy that he had sculpted in his mind since first year.

Lost in nostalgia, Draco hadn't noticed someone had entered the room. He stopped strumming as soon as he felt the presence behind him.

"I didn't know you could play" was what Harry said warily.

Nonchalance had served as Draco's shield for the past couple of days. He raised a shoulder in a half shrug, pretending Harry's presence didn't have any effect on him. "Just a hobby," he said and plucked on a string to hide his discomfort.

"I didn't know you could sing well, too." Harry's voice was wrapped with awe and coated with a rather thick layer of sincerity. Or maybe Draco had only imagined it. But the words made his head spin, his cheeks burn and his heart pound wildly.

"I was singing?" He hadn't noticed it, really. Perhaps he was too caught up in his musings that a song had unconsciously spilt out of his mouth somehow.

"A few words here and there," Harry said, striding closer to him, close enough for Draco to notice Harry's eyes were fogged behind his glasses and there were dark shadows underneath. "It was… nice."

Draco muttered, "Thanks," a bit wryly and perfunctorily. This was usually the point when invisible barriers would come crashing down around Harry and would make Harry take a step back, leaving Draco in a puddle of tangled emotions. They had been dancing the same routine for a week now and Draco was getting tired of this rubbish. He tried to ignore the tight knot that settled somewhere between his abdomen and chest.

"I uh…"

"What do you want, Harry?" Draco mentally cringed at how harsh he sounded but did his best not to show any emotions, just like what Harry had been doing.

"Listen, Draco." There was resoluteness in Harry's voice, quite ironic to the way his hand rubbed the back of his neck and constantly shifted his weight from one leg to another. "I'm not going to badger you," Harry said and the voice inside Draco's head couldn't help but blurt out, _'Oh, thank goodness!'_ "I just want to talk."

Draco's hands began to tremble and his breathing came in short, sporadic cadence. He slid his guitar off of his lap and gently laid it on the table beside him as a silent gesture to let Harry know he was ready to listen.

Harry started out with "I um…" then slid his hands in the front pockets of his hoodie. The eyes behind the spectacles shifted around the small flat before meeting Draco's own. "I talked to Dr. Chaturverdi. She explained to me what must be done. And I—"

"Harry—"

"No, please, Draco." Harry raised a hand in gesture to stop Draco from saying anything further. "Please. Let me finish. I've done a lot of thinking. And I know this is a huge thing. It's… it's going to be a heavy obligation for both of us once we're bonded. I just…" Harry rubbed a knuckle against one eyebrow and pushed his glasses up with the same finger. "I just want my conscience cleared. So… so I decided to do it."

"Do you even realise what you're saying?" was what Draco asked, his voice cracking because Harry had taken two strides further toward him.

"Yeah." There was nothing blasé about the way Harry shrugged his shoulders this time and he took another not-so-tentative step. And another. Until there was barely half a foot gap between them.

"A-are you sure?" Draco could feel the steam of nervousness billowing off of him. He was too weak to keep his fucking shield up, no longer able to protect his self from possibly getting scorned.

"I'm sure." Harry didn't give Draco a chance to react. He swooped down and pressed his lips against Draco's. It started out with a light touch, their lips brushing gently. Of the many threads of thoughts unravelling in Draco's mind, the one that stood up was _'shoot, I haven't brushed my teeth'_ but these threads dissipated like vapor when the kiss turned sloppy and demanding and uncoordinated and… _'crap'_ … hot.

Something unfurled in Draco's chest and he felt lighter. Freer. Then there was an invisible pull that drew him closer to Harry, as if a metaphorical bridge slowly rose to close in the distance that constantly grew between them during the past week.

When Harry pulled away, his green eyes sparkled and his lips curved up into a smile that sent a hot stream rushing throughout Draco's body. "I hope that was all right."

Are you kidding? No words could form coherently enough in his mouth so Draco just bopped his head, nodding once.

Harry slid his hand warily into Draco's, leaned closer and said, "Let's do this right," like a song of promise and love echoing in his ear. Harry's breath was hot against Draco's skin, sending a jolt of frissons all the way down to his groin.

Draco felt a gentle tug. He rose to his feet and let Harry lead him to his bedroom.

  
 **10 – trying harder just to even**  
 _word prompt: fake_

A battle of pros and cons exploded in Harry's head as if there were dozens of voices screaming at him, half of it telling him that this was a huge mistake and would throw him into the deepest pit of regret. Half of these thoughts though coaxed him to go with the flow, wheedling every part of his body to submit to this… this mind-numbing hunger. And thirst.

When he'd kissed Draco, he hadn't expected this feeling that sprouted from his core. Something inside him had ignited, making him lose control. Now, he wanted more. And more. And more.

Embarrassment clawed at his conscience when he'd realised that he had almost dragged Draco all the way to the bedroom. Fortunately, Harry managed to remain cool despite his heart pounding like a sledge hammer against his ribcage.

He now hovered over Draco whose back was pressed against the mattress. He had already discarded Draco's shirt and his own, had slid Draco's pants down which now pooled on the floor. His fingertips traced the lovely shape of Draco's lips and the sharp angles of Draco's jaw. God, he was beautiful. The thought made Harry shudder – not with disdain but with yearning. With want.

His mouth descended on Draco's, his tongue prodding tentatively against Draco's slightly parted lips, seeking permission. When he felt Draco's jaws relax, felt Draco's lips part more, Harry didn't waste a second to probe Draco's mouth, mapping every indents and every curves and every corners, tasting Draco as if he had always wanted this.

Something curled in his belly and Harry reluctantly pulled away, thinking, _'shit, I'm really, really enjoying this.'_ And he couldn't. He shouldn't. This was just… He was supposed to be doing this to help Draco. Nothing more. Fake. That was it. This should be nothing but feigned emotions, feigned urges.

Why then did it feel so real?

With shaking fingers, Harry slid off his glasses and got on his knees to deposit it on the small bedside table. He watched Draco for a while. The soft beam of moonlight that pierced through the partially opened curtains caressed the pale, soft skin of Draco's torso, glistening against a thin layer of sweat.

"Damn," Harry murmured before lowering his body, his skin gliding against Draco's, their lips locked once more in a hurried, clumsy kiss.

Harry could feel Draco's hands fumbling on the fly of his denims, could feel the struggle to pull them open. _'Fake.'_ He reminded himself. _'Just an obligation'_ , he thought as his hands covered Draco's, helping him get rid of the bloody trousers.

When he felt Draco's hand cup his erection through the thin fabric of his boxer briefs, his hips jerked in response, arching against Draco's touch. Sounds – embarrassing and… and titillating – ripped through Harry's throat the moment Draco started stroking.

_'Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck.'_

Cusses whirled around Harry's mind in dizzying speed. His breath, he noticed, had become erratic now, like Harry couldn't decide whether to draw in air or push it out of his lungs. All he knew – all he was aware of was this fire burning hot deep within his belly and he wanted more, wanted to feel Draco's cock hard against his palm.

Harry pulled the waistband of Draco's boxers down unceremoniously. His vision – blurry as it may – could make out the shape of Draco's erection, making Harry's mouth water and suddenly wanting his tongue pressed against the length.

Scared, but with steadfast determination, Harry curled his hand around Draco's shaft and gave a not-so-gentle tug, earning a hiss and an erotic blend of "shit, oh shit, Harry. That feels good" to fall from Draco's perfect lips.

"Shit," Harry hissed, unable to hold out any longer. He leaned down, wrapped his lips around the head of Draco's cock with caution, still uncertain what must—should be done and belatedly decided to let his instincts lead him. His eyes slid closed as he pushed down further, letting his tongue glide against the surface of the shaft, feeling the silk-like skin against his lips and his tongue and enjoying the way Draco tasted.

Slowly and gently, Harry pulled back, letting Draco's cock slide out of his lips.

"Fuck. Fuck, Potter," Draco said with a hiss, his chest rising and falling when Harry gazed up. Harry stroked Draco's erection lazily, eliciting a series of curses spilling out of Draco's mouth. "Shit, Potter, that was… that…" Draco's hands fisted the sheets beneath him.

The sounds that Draco made encouraged Harry to lean over and lap at Draco's erection then dragged his tongue slowly from the base to the head. Then he closed his mouth around the heated flesh once more, humming in appreciation, liking how Draco felt, how Draco tasted – all masculine and so, so Draco.

Harry's head bobbed, gradually increasing his pace, coaxing grunts and moans and other sounds that would surely echo in his ears hours after out of Draco. He felt fingers tangling in his hair, felt the slight tug – the silent gesture for Harry to stop before he heard Draco say, "Ha-harry. I… I w-want t-to feel you inside me."

 _'Like shit, no way.'_ His eyes snapped open, lips still wrapped around the thick, throbbing length and Harry felt his own dick stir.

If Harry's head had been spinning, he now felt like he had been caught in a violent whirlpool. He knew this was coming, knew this was part of it and knew it had to be done. His own words whistled in his ears now, thoughts of _'shit, shit, shit'_ ran endlessly in his head.

He came prepared, of course, knew what he needed – what to do but Harry still had to ask, "Shit, Malfoy, a-are you sure you want this now?"

"Please" was all that slipped through of Draco's lips and it sounded like a chant that echoed in Harry's ears, making Harry reach down for his trousers to grab the condom and small bottle of lube he'd stuffed in his pocket. He made a quick work on slicking his fingers, rubbing them until the cool liquid warmed up enough before pressing a fingertip against the puckered flesh between the crack of Draco's ass, stroking the skin gently while his other hand worked on Draco's penis.

"You okay?" Harry asked a little breathlessly and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth when Draco nodded almost frantically in response.

The moment Harry pushed a digit through Draco's entrance, everything that happened next were a blur of moans and gasps and skin-to-skin friction and burning flesh and cusses and Harry's name spilling out of Draco's mouth.

 

 

**11 – these memories of you**  
 _word prompt: fantasy_

It was like a drug that Draco constantly craved for. There was always this burning ache inside of him, a need to always feel Harry close. The constant hunger for Harry's touch increased every day and Harry… he um, he never failed to give.

Sometimes, an absurd idea would drill into Draco's brain, like maybe Hermione had made Harry go through an Unbreakable Vow or something, made Harry cite an oath that he would keep the bond until Draco was cured. The mere thought of Harry being forced to do this stabbed at Draco's heart.

Sex had been great. It eased the agonizing pang that Draco often felt in his chest, eased the sting in his entrails. Like a drug, indeed. Draco needed to have sex with Harry almost all the time now. And Harry… Harry had always been there to feed his urges.

A stray thought brushed his mind. What if… what if Harry got tired of helping him?

Draco shook his head, thought, _'no, Harry wouldn't'_ , and pushed away the shadows of fear and insecurities that came crawling into his psyche, replacing it with images of the past three days and nights, the memories of Harry's warmth, of Harry's solid naked body pressed against his own.

Damn, he wanted Harry now, wanted to feel Harry's fingers burn a trail across his skin, wanted to shiver under Harry's tongue, wanted Harry's lips to press kisses all over his body.

Harry had been gone since morning, said he had to pick up some supplies for the pub. The emptiness that swelled within Draco had started to become unbearable and it was hard to breathe somehow.

Focusing on Mel was a challenge. Draco's vision had gone blurry and it was as if the room was spinning and spinning and there was this sound ringing in his ears.

"Are you okay?" Mel's hand felt oddly cold on Draco's forearm.

"Y-yeah." It was a lie and Draco had a notion that Mel didn't believe him. She tilted her head, her gaze scrutinizing.

"You look pale, white as a sheet." The lines that formed between Mel's brows made her look sincerely worried and this only drove Draco to feel even more uncomfortable.

"Actually, I…" _'Lie, lie, lie.'_ Draco tried to come up with a lie, an excuse to get a break – at least until Harry got back. "I think I'm coming down with something. My head hurts a bit."

Mel's face softened. "Why don't you take a break? At least for an hour. It's Thursday anyway, so we're not really expecting a lot of customers and this hour is usually slow" was what she suggested and Draco conceded without hesitation.

The moment Draco got into his flat and closed the door behind him, his trembling fingers fumbled with the button and zipper of his trousers as if what he had to do— wanted to do was a matter of life and death. He dropped on his couch unceremoniously, pushed the trousers down to his hip, pulled his half hard penis out of his boxers and started stroking desperately.

With his eyes shut, images of Harry began to fill his head. Of Harry going down on him. Of Harry deliciously naked above him. Of Harry with his jaw clenched, lower lip wedged between his teeth, eyes shut, muscles on his neck and shoulders visibly tight, sweat glistening over miles and miles of pale, smooth skin.

"Fuck." The cuss slipped out of Draco's mouth, his hand curling tighter around his now fully hard, throbbing cock. "Fuck!" he said a bit louder when he felt the heat pooling his lower belly, felt the tight squeeze in his balls. He was close. The sound tearing from his throat echoed in his ears. He could feel the burn from his groin surging throughout his body, his toes curling inside his leather shoes. Then he was coming, white hot burst of sparks flashed behind his closed eyelids, warmth spilling on his hand.

"Couldn't wait 'til I get back, huh?"

Draco's eyes snapped open and he felt his entire body flush when he saw Harry standing on the doorway.

  
 **12 – a warning sign of regression**  
 _word prompt: danger_

"Are you sure you want to do this?" It wasn't that Harry was scared. Or maybe he was. He and Draco had done all sorts of… of whatever and Harry hadn't really expected he would be this sexually adventurous but… but…

This new um… kink or whatever you call it that Draco had in mind was a little bit out of character for Harry. Or hell, maybe even for Draco himself.

"Yes" was Draco's curt response. And, as an afterthought perhaps, added, "Please."

Harry tried to block all those logic that persistently prodded at his hindbrain. Thinking too much was never a good thing during sex. And _fuck_ , he couldn't even think straight anymore.

The steel was cold against his sweaty palms, the edges digging into his skin. Harry gripped the handcuff tighter, reminding himself that this was real. That this was really, _really_ happening.

Carefully, he slid one round metal around Draco's wrist and heard the soft click of the lock. He slipped the opposite end of the handcuff around one of the headboard's decorative bars then hooked it on Draco's other wrist.

This was it. Harry's teeth sank in his lower lip. He stripped of layers and layers of awkwardness and hesitancy before slipping into this… this role he had to play.

"Tell me what you—" he started, voice a little shaky. He cleared his throat and let his eyelids shut for a while before snapping them open once more. His flesh burned red hot. The need to make Draco submit to his control hummed against his skin. He gazed down at Draco and in a voice he hardly recognised was his own, said, "Tell me what you think I should do to you, Malfoy."

Something descended upon Draco, his eyes had turned darker and a mask of lasciviousness spread across his face.

"You…" The momentary pause sent a new thrill – something arousing that vibrated in the air. "You. Should. Punish me" was what came out of Draco's mouth, each word punctuated and it made Draco sound like an entirely different person – someone desperate, someone with a painful need.

"You have been bad." Harry found it easier to slip into this different character now. But he wasn't sure how long it would last.

"Y-yessss." Draco almost hissed the word and he writhed under Harry's touch.

Harry's palm glided over Draco's chest reverently, tracing the perfect contours with his fingertips. "You've been… very, very bad." He brushed his thumb over a nipple, earning a low, sensual moan from the man beneath him. "I'm going to teach you a lesson you wouldn't forget."

"Pleeeeassse." Draco breathed out as if he was in torment. The way the muscles in his neck tensed, the way his abdomen was sucked in made Harry drop the barriers that held every remaining ounce of hesitation, finally letting go of his inhibitions.

This wasn't the first time they had played this… this game. But they didn't do this often either.

Harry sat up on his legs and watched the glow of the candles around them dance against Draco's face. It was mesmerizing in many ways.

"Turn around," he said demandingly, his tone held every thread of control. Draco shifted to lie on his stomach. The metal chain of the handcuffs twisted around the bar making the headboard shake precariously.

Harry's hands glided along Draco's sides all the way down to Draco's hips. Then he hooked his fingers in the waistband of Draco's shorts, slipping it off of Draco in slow, calculated movement, revealing the black leather thong that hugged around Draco's hips.

The sight of Draco's arse – cheeks pale, tight and rounded – made Harry's mouth go dry. He had to swallow the ball of air that formed in his throat. He could feel Draco shivering, could sense the anticipation that drifted off of the blond-haired man that laid before him.

Unhurriedly, Harry pulled the black scarf that hung on the headboard and wrapped it snuggly around Draco's head and over his eyes.

Once he had Draco blindfolded and had Draco's ankles bound with a rope, Harry drew a deep, long breath. His hands worked reverently in spreading mineral oil from the heaps of Draco's shoulders all the way down the curves of Draco's back, palms feeling the heat rising out of the other man.

With a wave of his hand and a non-verbal summoning charm (reciting _'Accio'_ in his head), he watched the candle – yellow and thick and covered in melted wax – rise in the air and floated smoothly toward him.

When Harry had a grip on the candle, he felt somehow in control, like he had the power to make Draco submit, to make Draco beg and beg and plea and—

"This. This should remind you what happens to bad boys like you" were the words that tumbled out of Harry's mouth before he held the candle over Draco's back, tilted it and watched the melted wax dribble on Draco's shoulder blades.

Draco muttered a restrained, "Ow," when the liquid came in contact with his skin and the sound pushed Harry to give Draco more. More because Draco wanted it. More because Draco asked for it. More because Draco deserved it. More because Harry could, Harry would, Harry wanted this, too.

His eyes stung as he watched the melted wax dribble over Draco's back in steady streams without blinking. Rivulets of the thick liquid glided across the dip of Draco's spine before settling on a spot to harden. Soon, the surface of Draco's skin had turned an angry red around the hardening wax that now covered almost half of Draco's back.

It was such a beautiful sight. An art of pain and perfection, Harry thought. Other colors might make it even prettier than it was now.

Harry reached out to place the candle back on the table and grabbed another – red and thin and still long. He didn't bother with a summoning charm this time because his whole body pulsed with the need to see more of the covered wax spread artfully all over Draco like abstract painting.

"So, so pretty," Harry murmured under his breath, tilting the red candle and watched the paler shade of the hot liquid drip on the small of Draco's back, mixing with the yellow ones that had already formed asymmetrical patterns over miles and miles of pale skin.

An hour – maybe two – had passed and wax of various colors almost covered the entirety of Draco's dorsum and Harry felt fucking pleased and proud and—

_'Fuck.'_

Guilt suddenly churned at the back of his mind. What was he doing? What in the fuck was he doing?

"Draco?" His voice now quivered with worry. He could see Draco's shoulders moving as if breathing had become difficult for him. "Are you okay?"

The slight bob of Draco's head was the first thing Harry noticed followed by a faint, almost inaudible 'I'm fine' but Harry still didn't move.

This was sick. He shouldn't have agreed to this game, shouldn't have been drawn into his role, shouldn't—

"Harry?" Draco's head was tilted slightly enough to peer up at Harry. "Go on."

No. Harry tried to convince himself that this had to stop. But there was Draco, eyes filled with expectation, with longing and Harry – he just couldn't say 'no'. He nodded once in response, hesitation weighed heavily in his chest. He grabbed the paddle from the floor, wide and heavy and looked utterly menacing.

This is mad. Harry felt the need to remind Draco, said, "Don't forget the safe word. Anytime you feel—"

"Potter." Draco spoke with purpose, their roles reversed for a minute. Then Draco melted back into the mattress, buried his face back into the pillow and started pleading. "Please."

Harry couldn't help but think, _'shit, shit, shit'_ as he lifted the paddle, his hand curled firmly around the handle in a grip that could've strangled the poor thing to death if it were alive. He shed off the cloak of guilt and swung the paddle, watched the flat wooden surface come in contact with the pale flesh of Draco's bum with a resounding whack.

The skin that stretched across Draco's arse soon turned a shade of scarlet and Harry thought the color looked perfect with the black thongs. And he wanted to see how they would look with a darker tinge so he drew the paddle back and smack Draco's bottom again and again and again, enjoying the way the bum cheeks wiggled with every strike.

With a bit more force, he struck on the same spot twice more until he heard Draco groan – low and unnerving. Harry's arm paused in mid air, hesitation gripping his conscious thoughts.

Then he heard it. "Locket." It was barely audible and strained but the words were coherent enough.

The safe word bowled Harry over as if a bucketful of icy cold water had been poured on his head. He tossed the paddle aside and it bounced lethargically on the bed before sliding down to the floor.

"Oh shit." Harry dropped the pretense and cringed internally from the guilt that clawed at his skin. "Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit," he chanted, his hands hovering above Draco's body, uncertain which part he should touch or if it would be best to leave the battered flesh alone.

Draco mumbled, "'S okay," faintly while pulling on the restraints. It was then Harry noticed the angry marks around Draco's wrists.

"Oh shit, Draco, I'm so, so sorry" were the words that instantly flew out of Harry's mouth. "I uh… I think I got too carried away," he said, his eyes raking over Draco's body.

Wax of every color – yellow and red and blue and green – had hardened all over the expanse of Draco's back. It created a tangible picture of what Harry had done.

His hand trembled as he reached out to peel off the wax, careful and mindful of how Draco reacted every time. Draco didn't let out a single peep but the muscles on his arse and shoulders clenched while Harry worked on removing the rest of the stuff, glad that he applied a generous layer of mineral oil on Draco's back before they started and this made the job easier.

"You okay?" he said in almost a whisper and was partly relieved when Draco nodded.

Harry began to chant the healing spell but Draco stopped him, said, "Don't, Harry. Please. I nee—need this."

The next best thing Harry could think of was to press a kiss on the back of Draco's head and between Draco's shoulder blades. He released Draco's wrists and ankles, slid on the bed beside Draco and pulled Draco close, his arm curved around Draco's shoulder, one hand lazily carding through Draco's hair.

 _'Never again,'_ Harry thought. This would be the last time they would play this sick, dangerous little game.

  
 **13 – a little more than a better history**

_word prompt: never_

"So…" Harry leaned on his forearms on the counter, the faint light over the bar reflecting against the surface of his glasses. "Since Tyler will be back today, maybe you can take the day off and go somewhere with me?" His words were laced with hesitation and Draco wondered if Harry was up to something.

Then it hit him. Tyler was coming back so… so Harry might no longer need Draco to fill in for the bartender. Was Harry going to sack him?

Thoughts thundered in his head like a hundred hooves running around in circles and he felt himself sway a little. Something warm grasped at his forearm. Draco had to blink to get rid of the haze that covered his eyes to realise that Harry had grabbed him and half of Harry's body was splayed over the counter

"You okay?" Harry sounded genuinely worried and Draco relished the feeling that swelled in his chest.

"Yeah. Just. Tired, I guess" was the best lie that Draco could come up with. "I think I could use a break so… yeah. I'd love to go with you."

They spent most of the day at The Regent's Park, where Harry took Draco on one of those boat rides. It was calming somehow, just floating on the surface of the tranquil water with the mid-autumn air nipping gently at Draco's exposed skin.

"You look tons better now than the first day you walked into the pub," Harry said, pulling the oars in and securing it on the boat's side.

The boat rocked a little when Draco shifted on the wooden seat to face Harry. "You think so?"

A hint of pinkish red colored Harry's cheeks. "Yeah." Draco could tell Harry was doing his best to sound nonchalant when he said, "I mean, look at you. Your face isn't as pale as it was and you um… you seem to glow everyday. You actually look good."

Draco could feel his cheeks burning. His hands almost flew to his face in a futile attempt to hide what he was sure was the most ridiculous blush anyone could have but instead… instead, he tucked them on his lap and started wringing his fingers.

 _'Stupid, stupid blush'_ were the words that skipped around Draco's head. _'Stupid, stupid me.'_ His thoughts were interrupted when he a warm hand enveloped his intertwined ones, making him snap his head up and meet the enthralling green depths of Harry's gaze.

"You okay? You hungry?" Harry's head was tilted and he looked a little worried – maybe?

The warmth from Harry's touch seeped right through Draco's skin, spreading all the way up his arms in frissons, making Draco shiver and wanting more. But… but he couldn't have that right now. Not right here.

Draco was able to say, "I'm… I'm alright. Not really hungry, but I'd love to have some of the muggle food you keep bragging about," in what he hoped was a teasing tone.

The look that Harry gave him was enough sign that Harry sensed the slip of uneasiness in Draco's voice, but Harry didn't say anything about it, _'thank goodness'_. His lips curve up in a smile. "I know just the place," he said then grabbed the oars and started paddling.

They didn't really go too far. The Boathouse Café was just near the edge of the boating area, but it has a patio that overlooks the waterfront and it gave such a relaxing ambiance.

They spent the hour dining on what Harry had called Chicken Caesar salad and salami pizza and pasta with white sauce while catching up on the last five years.

Draco had told Harry about how he landed a job as an auror and how he got suspended and Harry had this soft look in his eyes when he said, "I'm sorry."

"Oh no. Don't be" was Draco's quick return. "It wasn't like… it wasn't like it was your fault or anything. It just happened and I… I couldn't explain it at the time so…" Draco felt stupid not knowing exactly what to say. It was sort of strange that Harry did that to him, made him feel so conscious with every word that slipped out of his mouth and he wasn't sure if this damn fixation had anything to do with it or… or something else.

"Hey. Don't give me that face." Harry peered through his glasses, the corner of his eyes crinkled when he smiled and Draco just wanted to kiss him. "Why don't we go grab some ice cream and I'll take you some place pretty?"

Harry's enthusiasm was contagious – too contagious that Draco could feel it thrumming under his skin.

With a scoop of strawberry ice cream for Harry and vanilla with almond bits for Draco, they made their way to Primrose Hill. The place was simply breathtaking. It had a clear view of Central London, dried grass stretched for miles and miles and trees with dried branches stood proud every few meters, golden leaves piled around the base of the trunks.

They settled under one particularly larger tree, leaves crunching beneath their arses. Thick, long branches stretched toward the heavens as if it was worshipping some benign deity.

Draco did his best not to glance Harry's way. He could see the other man's tongue darting to lick on his frozen dessert through the corner of his eye and it was doing things to Draco – inappropriate things. But Draco couldn't help it. His head snapped over to Harry just in time to see a speck of pink cream sitting on one end of Harry's lips.

"You have some…" Draco started saying, his hand moved on his own accord and settled over Harry's chin, thumb stretching to wipe the spot at the same time Harry's tongue darted out to lick it. When the pale pink and wet flesh inadvertently connected with Draco's finger, thrill shot throughout Draco's body, whipping through him like some force, his blood rushing all the way down to his um… groin area.

He didn’t' pull back though. His hand remained motionless on Harry's cheek, fighting the temptation to slide over to the back of Harry's neck then pull Harry close and kiss him senseless. But… but… They were in a public place and Draco didn't know if that was okay.

"Do you, um…" It was Harry who broke the silence that fell between them. "Do you want to go back to your flat or mine or—"

"No." Draco cut Harry off and was surprised at the insistence in his own voice. It wasn't deliberate but the need was coursing through him in painful waves right now and he wanted to feel Harry touch him all over, wanted to feel Harry inside him. This couldn't wait.

"Okay," Harry squeaked, his voice so small, and Harry yelped when Draco jumped to his feet then yanked Harry up with him.

They found a public loo somewhere at the edge of Primrose Hill and strangely deserted save for two men snogging at the corner. The couple didn't seem to pay them any heed.

"Maybe you'd like to do that some place else," Harry said in a menacing tone, which made both men jump apart. One of them seemed ready to retaliate but Draco joined Harry in throwing them a deathly glare. Both men nodded and dashed out of the loo and Harry didn't waste a second to lock it behind them.

What Draco didn't expect is for Harry to pull his wand out and started chanting, "Repello muggletum," while waving his arm around, wand pointed at the walls.

This was taking too long. Draco rolled his eyes and heaved a sigh. "Harry. Forget it, let's just…"

Harry paused a while, turned his head enough to look at Draco. " But someone might break down the door or—"

Draco just yanked Harry by the arm and dove for Harry's mouth, the kiss desperate and yearning and just… just plain hungry. He held Harry's cheeks, not wanting to let go, and hoped this got the message through that he wanted Harry now and not a minute later.

When Draco felt Harry pushed him toward the stalls, he thought, _'yeah'_ , Harry so did get the cue. It was a rush between locking the stall door and fumbling with their belts and fly and—

"Turn around," Harry said, pitch low and husky and sounded like he wanted to devour Draco and Draco chanted _'oh please, please, please'_ in his head while he did what he was told.

He splayed his hands against the wall and gasped when Harry pushed his jeans and boxers all the way down to his ankles, anticipation surging through him in tumultuous waves. His knees buckled when Harry practically rammed a moist finger in him and he heard Harry breathe out an apology.

"Harry," Draco said in a strained voice, "just… do it." He might have sounded too demanding but fuck, he wanted Harry now, wanted to feel Harry.

The words "fuck, Draco" rolled out from Harry with a restrained breath, hot air grazing the side of Draco's neck.

Draco meant to plead but instead he said, "Now," hard-edged and perhaps peremptory in a way. He was glad Harry didn't utter any argument and his body began to shake when he heard the rustling sound of what he guessed was foil.

Harry's hand lingered on his side – somewhere near his hip, fingers cold against his feverish skin. Something cool touched the crack of his arse, prompting him to thrust his hip back. A low growl like that of a tortured soul ripped through his throat and he might have said, "Please, oh please, oh please," but the words that reached his ears were hardly coherent.

His stomach clenched when he felt the hard length slide inside him slowly and he so wanted to tell Harry to 'just fuck me hard, damn it' but his throat closed up and all he could do was hiss.

Breathing proved quite a task and Draco did so through gritted teeth when he felt Harry thrust further, pushed deeper, Harry's cock thick and throbbing inside him. _'Fuck!'_ He wanted more and he did tell Harry "more. More. Fuck, I want more," and pushed back his hips back to meet Harry's thrusts.

Harry pulled out – excruciatingly slow – and the words 'faster, harder' came rushing out of Draco.

The cubicle seemed to spin. Draco felt as if the floor was slipping out from underneath him when Harry began to move the way Draco wanted him to. Faster. And faster. Harry's cock created a delicious, burning friction that left him shaking and yearning and begging.

Shallow breaths and synchronised grunts and moans filled the dense air. The sound of slicked skin slapping against skin reverberated in Draco's ears.

They moved in a familiar rhythm. Draco's thoughts merged and was now focused on Harry – how Harry filled him, how he loved having Harry inside him, how Harry's hand crawled from his hip and across his belly then curled around his… _'ohfuckohfuckohfuck.'_ … his erection.

Blood rushed in Draco's ears like a gust of wind and surged straight down to his crotch. He felt his muscles clench, squeezing around Harry's hard, fervent cock.

"Oh fuck!" Harry's grip on Draco's hip and Draco's length tightened. His thrusts went faster and harder and faster and _'oh—'_

White sparks exploded behind Draco's eyelids, orgasm ripping through his body. He heard curses pouring out of Harry's mouth before Harry tensed, before Draco felt the pressure of Harry's teeth on his back – right at the curve that flowed from his neck to his shoulder.

Draco imagined Harry's eyes shut tightly, wished he could see Harry's face but Harry's head was slumped over his shoulder.

Neither of them moved until they heard a sound like a door was being unlocked.

Harry blurted, "Shit," almost inaudibly and quickly slid out of Draco.

The loss made Draco weak but he managed to stay upright long enough to fix his jeans. Then Draco melted over the closed lid of the toilet, his breath trying to outrun him.

Mist coated Harry's glasses but he didn't seem bothered. He brushed a few strands of hair off of Draco's forehead then leaned down to press his lips on Draco's and, in between heavy breaths, said, "Why don't we go home and perhaps have another round?"

"Yeah," Draco said, not caring how loud he was despite realising that there were people outside the stall. This was one offer he would never pass up. Not even in his dreams.

 

 

**14 – an open sky of redemption**  
 _word prompt: embrace_

Harry liked Draco. Maybe. Probably. Harry wasn't so sure when he'd realised this. Maybe it was somewhere between trying to come up with a reason to make Draco stay and when Draco spilled orange juice on Harry's lap. Or…

It probably started way back after the war when— Harry shook his head. It was one page in his life that he'd ripped off from his history and kept it safely tucked within the deepest recesses of his mind.

This was… this was mental, he knew. He shouldn't be harboring any emotions. At all. That was part of the agreement when he had acceded to go through this bonding thing – whatever. He was pretty sure Dr. Chaturverdi or maybe even Hermione would think he was toying with Draco and they would have his head on a platter if they found out.

And Draco – Harry wasn't sure how Draco felt about him. He was well aware that Draco's needs were only caused by this… thing. This… fixation. This illness.

There is a huge possibility that once Draco was cured, he could easily walk out of Harry's life and would only give Harry a pat on a shoulder and a casual 'thanks' then Draco would go back to being Draco.

Harry, on the other hand, would probably sink back to a life filled with layers and layers of pretenses and the dark corners of the pub would serve as a backdrop.

This shouldn't happen. Harry shouldn't be taking the plunge, shouldn't be too emotionally vulnerable. But…

"Hey Harry!" Seeing Draco made Harry reconsider. Draco's gray eyes gleamed, his gaze pierced through Harry like Draco was peering into Harry's soul.

Harry was certain that his voice cracked when he had said, "Hi Draco," but instead of clearing his throat, he just swallowed until his mouth had gone dry. He could feel Draco's scrutinizing gaze burning a hole on his forehead.

Maybe Draco saw nothing or… or whatever Draco saw didn't seem to faze him. In his ever-so-casual tone, Draco said, "There are five crates of bottled cranberry juice and two crates of champagne at the back. The guy insists that he has it in his purchase order – whatever that is. But Liam claims we haven't ordered any. Could you um…" and ended it with a jerk of his thumb, gesturing at the door that lead to the kitchen.

The nonchalance steaming out of Draco gnawed at Harry, sending a mild twitch to his heart. He followed Draco, nonetheless, and welcomed the underlying problem at hand with open arms. It provided a much-needed distraction for a while. It took about half an hour for Harry to resolve such a miniscule issue then he retired to his office with a migraine the size of Hogwarts.

He must've dozed off. Harry couldn't exactly remember what he'd been doing. His eyes snapped open when he heard the soft knock and he felt something – like static – jolt through his body.

The knock came once more since Harry hadn't uttered a word. When he heard Draco's voice, he sprang up and the words 'come in' skipped out before he could stop himself.

"Hey." Draco poked his head, a trace of timidity wrapped around his voice. He slipped inside as soon as Harry beckoned him over and was balancing a tea cup in one hand. "I thought you might want some tea?"

 _'Tea is good. Tea is safe.'_ "Sure. Thanks." Harry asked Draco to join him and felt his heart race when Draco acquiesced.

The china clinked quietly as Draco placed the cup of tea on the table then sank on one of the plush chairs, his gray eyes soft against the dim light that shone from the wall behind Harry. "Does your head still hurt?" Draco kept his voice down and Harry appreciated his effort to keep the atmosphere serene.

Harry no longer felt like there was a whole tribe playing bongos in his head, so he muttered, "Not much," but the way his voice sounded as if he swallowed a bag of flour made it seem paradoxical somehow. He was grateful for the tea though. It felt absolutely heaven when he'd taken a sip, the warm liquid sliding down his throat, carrying a soothing essence that swirled within him. He couldn't help but hum in appreciation, eyes sliding close.

"Good?" Draco's voice, in spite of being soft, hauled Harry back to reality. Something flickered across Draco's eyes, like – maybe he was waiting for Harry to speak.

"Yeah." It wasn't at all convincing but it was the best Harry could offer right now. "It's—it's soothing."

Draco's mouth quirked, a smile curved on his lips. "It's a special blend of tea leaves that I sort of experimented on when I needed something to ease my mind," he said, a certain calm trickling down his face. "Endless hours of work at the Ministry could be horrific at times."

"Ever the potions master, huh?" spilled out of Harry in a playful timbre, coaxing Draco to roll his eyes.

"That's not a potion, Potter. Don't flatter yourself" was Draco's equally light-hearted return. "I don't think I'll need one to get you."

Harry didn't miss the way Draco's lips twitched flirtingly. Something in Harry's chest unfurled. The threads of worry and apprehension untangled in his mind and the weight – heavy as an anvil's – balancing on his shoulders were lifted.

There was so much Harry needed to tell Draco. The truth about why he chose to stay away from the wizarding world might be a good start. Maybe there wasn't anything for him to worry about. Maybe things would be better in the end. Or perhaps Harry should just embrace whatever life threw on his lap.

Optimism was quite redeeming and it was another one of those life lessons that Harry mentally bookmarked in his head.

  
 **15 – take this small confession**  
 _word prompt: truth_

Harry's head was tucked comfortably under his chin and Draco was lazily dragging his fingers across Harry's bare back.

It had been three months since they bonded and sex had been getting better and better. What Draco feared was that he had noticed the painful urges were no longer as intense as it had been.

Sex had been less frequent lately and Draco couldn't help but wonder if Harry had likewise perceived the changes.

When Hermione and Ron came by for a visit the other day, Hermione did say something about Draco looking a lot better. She suggested quite bluntly that he should set up an appointment with Dr. Chaturverdi. Draco had no choice but to agree.

"What's on your mind?" Harry's sleep-laced voice coiled gently around Draco's conscious thoughts. "I can almost hear you thinking."

"Really?" Draco felt the tug at the corner of his lips. "What do you hear then?"

"Hmm…" Harry shifted slightly to press a kiss on Draco's shoulder before lifting his head and said, "I hear you thinking what an awesome… um… fuck you just had." His lips stretched into a smile, teeth showing and Draco couldn't fight the urge to kiss him.

Draco struggled to make his throat work and say, "You know what? I'm not going to argue with that," when he pulled away, not even irritated with the smug look that settled on Harry's face.

 _'Fuck. What is this?'_ Draco could feel something bubbling in his chest and wonder if… if…

 _'No.'_ He couldn't possibly be falling for Harry. This was a barmy thought. Harry would probably be furious if he found out. Or maybe he wouldn't – whatever. Draco couldn't risk it. Not right now.

A few wordless minutes had passed when Harry spoke again, said, "There's something I need to tell you," disrupting the tranquility that rippled around them in the process.

Draco hummed, asked, "What is it?" in a failed attempt to feign apathy. His brain revved up like an engine, a thousand thoughts rolling to different directions.

 _'Shit. Shit. Shit.'_ Had Harry decided to break the bond?

Harry didn't even lift his head, or glance Draco's way. His hand stilled from where it had been drawing circles on Draco's chest. "Do you um… do you remember when you first had the dream? You know? The one you said you had often before you came here?"

It seemed a lifetime ago that it took a while for Draco to recall, to say, "Kind of. It was around a year and probably four months ago. Why?"

"It's just—" A loud, incessant noise ripped across the still room, cutting Harry off.

"Shoot." Draco jerked his arm, prompting Harry to raise his head. "I have an appointment with Dr. Chaturverdi in an hour. Hermione will be here in…" he started, eyes snapping over the clock on the bedside table and reaching out to press something – anything to silence it, "in fifteen minutes to pick me up." He slid out of the bed in a hurry and snatched his clothes from the floor. "We'll talk as soon as I get back, okay?" He leaned over the bed to give Harry a peck on the lips.

"Okay." Harry slumped down on the mattress, sweat glistening over his chest. Draco had to drag himself out of Harry's room. There wasn't anywhere else he'd rather be right now. But…

It took, more or less, forty minutes to get to Dr. Chaturverdi's clinic. It might have taken only thirty in Draco's opinion, but Hermione seemed too careful when driving.

Hermione didn't say much while they waited for Draco's turn, just watched Draco with worry half the time. Draco's eyes swept around the waiting room, trying to elude Hermione's scrutinizing gaze.

It was a huge relief when Draco finally heard his name and despite the fact he was reluctant to see Dr. Chaturverdi, he dashed toward the room where the nurse led him to escape Hermione.

The doctor had a – um… what muggles called mobile phone pressed against her ear when Draco slid inside her clinic – or office. Dr. Chaturverdi waved her hand, gesturing at the chair in front of a large desk. He made his way to the (what he guessed was) synthetic-leather-and-velvet-covered chair, every step weighed with hesitation.

"It's nice to see you again, Mr. Malfoy" were the doctor's first words. She tossed her phone on the desk and leaned back on her chair . "You're looking much better than the last time I saw you."

"Thanks."

Dr. Chaturverdi grabbed a chart from her desk and started teeming Draco with a series of questions like _"are you still having erotic dreams?"_ and _"how often do you have sex?"_ and _"does sex with Mr. Potter always satisfy you?"_ and _"do you have sex on impulse when the need arises?"_ that made his cheeks burn. Then the doctor left her seat, said, "I'm going to run the same tests to see how you're progressing," and stepped out of the room, leaving Draco to breathe for a while.

Draco was used to having his blood drawn by now so he watched with ease as the doctor took a small piece of his being.

The results came faster than he would've preferred. Prolonging it seemed more appealing. He dreaded to hear there wasn't any progress and the doctor might suggest other forms of treatment. On the other hand, he likewise dreaded to hear that the bonding process was working, that he was getting better, that eventually, he wouldn't need to be around Harry anymore.

"Well," the doctor started, eyes fixed on the stack of papers in her hand. "It seems you're getting better" were the only words that Draco's brain managed to process and the rest of what the doctor had said passed through him like a breeze. _'Fuck!'_ He was getting better. He was—

"Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco blinked away the foggy traces of his cogitation, head snapping to meet the doctor's gaze. "Hmm?"

The doctor pressed her lips together and sighed. "I said I might need you to come see me every month at least, so I can monitor your progress. We'll set up another appointment in four weeks, okay?"

Draco left the doctor's office with less spring in his steps than he should have. He should be ecstatic to hear that he was getting better. But no. Getting better would mean that Harry would no longer have a reason to be in close proximity with Draco all the time. And Draco… he would no longer have a reason to stay.

Why should it matter? He wondered. Wasn't he with Harry only because it was necessary? Because it was what he needed to do to keep himself sane or… or something?

Hermione didn't make things any easier. She probably asked more questions than the doctor did on their drive home. She kept throwing Draco a cursory glance until Draco couldn't take it anymore, said, "I'm fine, Hermione. It's not like I'm dying. I'm… just tired."

When they got back to the pub, Harry had his hands full of a group of young men and women rowdily laughing near the corner. Their eyes met for a moment and the gleam that went past beneath Harry's spectacles made Draco's heart jump. The small smile that sat on Harry's lips was enough for Draco to pull himself together.

Harry breezed through him, said, "We'll talk later," and careened toward the kitchen, calling out to Liam and Kurt and a couple of busboys.

It wasn't so busy the rest of the night and at Draco's fifth hour, Tyler had told him to "get some rest, mate. You don't look too good. I got you covered," so he was able to retire earlier than usual.

Not long after, he heard the jingling of keys followed by his door opening then Harry's voice floated through his silent flat. "Draco?"

Before he could let out a single peep though, Harry found him in his bedroom, shivering under the covers, gaze locked on the closed window, watching white flecks of snow sprinkling like fairy dusts outside.

"Hey."

Draco felt the mattress dip behind him, the warmth of Harry's voice draping around him like a warm fleece blanket.

"Are you okay? Tyler said you were sick." Harry's fingers brushed through his hair, his body pressed against Draco's back.

Draco was inclined to face Harry, to say, "I'm okay," and let a comfortable lull reverberate between them before he told Harry about his visit to Dr. Chaturverdi.

"Well, that's good" fell from Harry's lips and Draco wasn't sure if he was reading too much into it but Harry's words seemed weighed with apprehension. "At least whatever we've been doing works."

The phrase stabbed at Draco's heart. _'Whatever we've been doing.'_ These words echoed in Draco's head like an enigmatic message being engraved in his hindbrain. _'Whatever we've been doing.'_ He was so tempted to scream at Harry, to tell him that… that they had been having sex – that was what they had been doing.

"That reminds me…" Harry's voice smashed against the thin glass wall of Draco's rumination, creating web-like cracks that spread rapidly until it shattered into a million pieces. "I think you deserve to know… something."

Draco took note of the way Harry dithered. A ball of dread swelled in his chest, but he said, "What is it?" nonetheless, coaxing Harry to go on.

"Well…" Harry toyed with the fabric of Draco's jumper, his eyes falling anywhere but refused to meet Draco's own. "You did say you started having dreams more than a year ago. I think I know why and… and you have the right to know."

Draco sat up and gave Harry his undivided attention, pushing away stray thoughts that were lingering in his head.

"Remember when you were sent to Liverpool to drive away dementors? I uh… I happened to be there at the same time, visiting Dudley and his family."

A vague memory of the incident touched Draco's mind. He dug deeper and deeper until he could see images in his head. He nodded, letting Harry know he remembered, and closed his eyes to let Harry's voice guide him.

"I… I felt the dementors' presence and knew that someone could be in trouble. I found Ron first and by the time I found you, the dementors were drawing the last threads of your emotions and you um, you were already unconscious and…" The rest of Harry's words faded like a dream echoing in Draco's ears.

He remembered it now: the cold draft coiling around his chest while two dementors hovered above him, sucking every thread of emotion and energy and had left him almost empty. Then he remembered a gleam of light – blue and white and glowing.

"It was you" fell from Draco's lips. His eyes met Harry's, and something flashed at the back of Draco' s mind. "You were the one who saved me, brought me back."

"Um…" Harry's eyes dropped somewhere on the mattress. "I had to give you CPR, you know, muggles' way of resuscitating someone and… and… I think something happened then— right when my um… my lips touched yours and I started to—to breathe life back into you."

It all came back to Draco now, pouring like waterfalls. "How—how come I don't remember much of it?" he asked, dragging his hand through his hair. "How come I barely remember that case or… or being in Liverpool for that matter?"

There was a pregnant pause before Harry opened his mouth then closed it, a look of uncertainty settling on his face.

Minutes stretched without either of them uttering a sound. Then Harry finally started with, "I uh…" before sliding back into a deep pool of contemplation.

Draco called out Harry's name to yank him back to reality, to let Harry know that Draco was waiting. Waiting for the truth or whatever it was Harry meant to share.

"I had to _obliviate_ part of your memory, specifically of that day" were the words that spilled out of Harry's lips. "The bond or… or whatever that held our thoughts, our emotions together was too strong that I had to block a part of your mind. If I hadn't, y-you uh… you would've dragged us both into coma."

It suddenly all made sense now. The dream – it could've been leftover traces of what had happened and—

Harry's words caught up with Draco, dragging the scattered pieces of the puzzle together. Something clenched in Draco's chest and he felt as if the room was closing in on him. Could this… could this mean that he did have a life debt? Could that be why he had recurring dreams?

Draco hadn't realised he had said this out loud until Harry shook his head, said, "Not really. Whatever you owed me, you were able to repay almost immediately after you came to." Harry took his glasses off to wipe the sweat that had gathered between his eyes then slid the spectacles back. "Dementors took advantage of the bond's distraction. They um… they snuck up behind me but you stopped a couple of them from attacking me before the other aurors arrived, so…" He lifted a shoulder in a half shrug but none too insouciant.

Whatever light that was shed on the shadowy part of Draco's mind dimmed, leaving him befuddled. "So if… if I didn't have a life debt…"

"The bond might have triggered the fixation" was the theory Harry offered.

 

 

**16 – price to pay**  
 _word prompt: limit_

"It's just going to be for a week," Draco had said, but Harry felt like it was going to be longer than that and he… he really didn't want Draco to leave. He was worried, okay?

What if… what if Draco suddenly had the urges and needed Harry to do— well, THAT? It had happened once – twice, maybe, when Harry was away and Draco needed him and he wasn't… he wasn't there.

Harry had promised Draco it would never happen again, but now… now Draco was the one who left, said there was something urgent in the Ministry he had to deal with. Wasn't Draco supposedly on suspension?

"Would you stop? Please." Hermione grabbed him by the arm and forced him to take a seat.

"What if he left because he's mad at me for… well, since he now knows what happened more than a year ago and… what if—if he needs me right now?" Harry couldn't seem to form a string of words coherently enough and this made Hermione roll her eyes.

"Will you relax?" she said, her accent punctuating every word. "All aurors – whether on vacation or suspension or even on early retirement – have been called for an emergency gathering. It's confidential so that's all I could tell you."

Harry sprang back on his feet and began pacing. "I should've told him long ago, Hermione. I should've…" he said, nearly burning a hole on the floor.

Hermione looked at him as if he had grown another dozen of scars all over his face. "It probably wouldn't have made a difference, Harry. He still would have been fixated."

"Yeah, but…" But what? Harry lost the train of thought. His mind focused instead on a faded image of Draco, of Draco bent almost in half and clutching at his belly, face twisted in pain. "I uh…" He ran his hand through his face. "I shouldn't be thinking too much about it, right?"

"Exactly" was Hermione's prompt response. "I know a way to distract you," she said, tilting her head a little. "Why don't we go see this new film on the local theatre nearby? Since Ron's at the gathering, too, I could certainly use a company right now."

Harry conceded, thought that he hadn't exactly done anything muggle-like for the past five years, despite the fact he'd been living in a muggle community. He owed it to Hermione, at least. He hadn't exactly been a good friend to her as much as she had been there for him every step of the way.

  
 **17 – never been the kind to let go**  
 _word prompt: wires_

It felt like… like there were wires tangled inside him, twisting around his entrails and—

Draco did his best to ignore the pain, willing it to ease up. He'd survived a week, not having Harry to help him, to feed his urges. He had bothered Harry long enough – five months, actually.

Besides, he was getting better. Maybe. The ache in his gut that came with the need to have Harry close had been bearable lately. He'd had trouble breathing a couple of times and it felt like his head would explode the other day when he craved to feel Harry buried inside him. But he survived.

The separation, though it was Draco's choice, was most likely worse than being in Azkaban, but…

Harry had given up too much, had set his own priorities aside for him and Draco couldn't ask for more. The guilt for having Harry shoulder the responsibility for this—whatever he was going through—churned in his belly. Harry had done his part and now it was time for Draco to deal with this on his own.

Dr. Chaturverdi did say he was almost clear (whatever that meant) when he had the tests more than a couple of weeks ago.

"You okay?"

Draco whipped around only to see the worry that was etched on Ron's face. He'd been too distracted that he hadn't heard Ron slip into the loo. His gaze snapped back to the mirror, his reflection taunting him.

"You look pale," Ron said and when Draco drew his eyebrows together, Ron quickly added, "Well… paler than usual."

"I'm fine."

Ron's lips twisted in a half frown and Draco could tell Ron knew he was lying. "Do you want me to call Harry?"

"NO!" Draco hadn't meant to yell. Really, he hadn't. But the thought of Ron dragging Harry back into Draco's dilemma ignited something in his chest, which made Ron cringe and take a step back. "Don't. Please," Draco said, his voice soft this time. "I'm okay, really. I can handle this." He had to. He. Had. To.

  
 **18 – miserable without you**  
 _word prompt: over_

  
His digital clock read: 4:32 A.M.

Harry had been tossing and turning all night. Sleep eluded him. It had been three weeks and four days since Draco left. And Harry wasn't sure if he was ever coming back. He had thought of paying Draco a visit since Draco only lived on the other side of London but…

Maybe Draco was better now, no longer suffering from fixation. Maybe… maybe Draco no longer needed him.

The mere thought of losing Draco dug a crater in Harry's heart. He felt so… so empty inside.

 _'Damn!'_ He should've told Draco, should've let Draco know how he felt about him. But he was too much of a coward, afraid that if he did, he might lose Draco. How irony worked against his favor. Now Harry wasn't sure if Draco would ever come back.

Two hours of trying to get into a comfortable position passed and Harry had to accede that it was pointless to try and get some sleep. He slid out of bed thinking that running might do him some good.

Harry rummaged through his wardrobe and until he found a pair of sweat pants and an old tee shirt. He tried to focus on getting dressed to keep Draco out of his thoughts, even for a while. After he had slipped his trainers on, he took his keys and dragged himself out of his flat.

The walk across the hallway had always been a burden. Passing by Draco's flat only reminded him of the silence vibrating within its empty walls. Like always, Harry paused in front of Draco's door, laid his hand on the carved wooden surface as if he would be able to feel Draco's presence.

Something nudged at him, urging him to go inside. His hand was shoved in his pocket, fingers feeling the cool metal of the keys in it. He pushed away every single thread of reluctance and unlocked the door. He hadn't been in Draco's flat for more than a week, even if he did promise Draco that he would water Draco's plants while Draco was gone. Every time he stepped inside, a flood of memories washed over him and it only made him twice more miserable.

This time, Harry braved to go further inside, striding as far as Draco's bedroom. He stood at the doorway, staring at the bed. Fragments of what they had done for the past months floated around his head, forming images that played like a faded movie before him.

Harry felt the smart deep inside his chest, the crippling ache spreading like a ripple and making it hard for him to breathe.

Draco's name fell from his lips. Like a prayer. Like a summoning charm.

An eerie silence was the only response he got and a voice inside his head telling him that it was over. Draco was gone. For good.

Harry dropped on his knees and lifelessly melted on the floor. Pain surged from his very core like a thousand double-edged daggers stabbed every inch of his body. He had no more tears left to shed. Instead, his head throbbed mercilessly.

Draco was gone. And he was left here to wallow in misery, spiraling into the deepest, darkest pit of anguish.

  
 **19 – this silver leaves me longing for gold**  
 _word prompt: follow_

A month had passed since he left this place and Draco felt rather odd stepping back inside the pub. It was Saturday and Draco knew the place would be a buzz, always had been during weekends. He took advantage of this, thinking that maybe… maybe Harry would be too busy to pay him any heed.

He was startled when someone yelled, "Draco!" and he felt the pat on his shoulder before he had a chance to turn and see Tyler. "Good to see you, mate. Did you come by for your last pay check or are you coming back to throw me out of the bar?"

Draco knew Tyler long enough to know that Tyler's words were only meant as good-natured jests.

"I just came to pick up a few things I left behind" was the reason Draco thought would make the most sense. Truth was, he really didn't know what he was doing there, why he came in the first place.

Half of the time he was away, he realised he no longer had painful urges. Instead, he had plain urges and it burned a hole in his chest. The need to see Harry, to hold Harry close echoed in the hallow space of his heart.

He no longer felt the vicious twisting in his gut and in his chest for the past weeks but he still craved for Harry's warmth. The distance hatched a different kind of pain, one that made his eyes sting every time his mind lingered in the memories of the past months.

It wasn't until Ron found him crying in the loo the other day and gave him one bloody hell of a 'talk' that he never got from his mother, even during his teenage years.

Surprisingly though, a lot of things began to make sense after he and Ron talked. And Draco had accepted the fact that he would never be able to move on unless… unless he had some closure. He needed to see Harry one last time.

"Draco." Harry looked up from his desk as soon as Draco stepped inside. Something glimmered on Harry's eyes. But what Draco noticed the most was how Harry looked different somehow. A dark veil of sadness seemed to hang around Harry and a gray shadow danced across his pretty face.

It was such a heartbreaking sight. Draco had to swallow the lump that rose in his throat before he was able to utter Harry's name, to say, "Sorry I've been gone so long without a word."

"It's okay" slipped out of Harry's mouth like a breeze.

Harry opened his mouth once more but Draco cut him off, said, "I uh… I just came to thank you for everything you've done for me. I owe you one this time, I guess."

"No, Draco. You…" Harry pulled his glasses off and wiped it with the fabric of his shirt before slipping it back on then he cleared his throat, said, "you don't owe me anything. At all. Please."

Draco meant to argue but the resoluteness that settled on Harry's face pushed the word back on his tongue. He nodded, shoved his hands in his trouser pockets and rocked on the balls of his feet.

_'Say it. Say it, stupid.'_

"I um… I came to get some of my things from my flat" was what flowed out of Draco's mouth in one breath.

"You're—" A look of hurt flashed across Harry's face and this yanked really, really hard at Draco's heartstrings. "You're not staying?"

Draco found it hard to speak, afraid that he was making things worse for him and for Harry, but he couldn't stop himself from saying, "There's no reason for me to stay anymore, Harry. I had my tests this morning and Dr. Chaturverdi says I'm all clear." _'Unless you ask me to'_ was what he wanted to add, but didn't.

"Okay" was Harry's perfunctory return, but what Draco saw in Harry's eyes was completely the opposite of 'okay'.

"This isn't really the place for me, Potter. I will never fit in." Draco didn't miss the way Harry winced when he called Harry by his last name. "They uh… they gave me my old job back at the Ministry. So I'm… I'm going back home."

This wasn't exactly how Draco wanted to end things but he couldn't let himself fall for Harry because… because Harry would never feel the same way for him. It just hurt too much. It was wrong for him to want more from Harry, so the only option he had left is to push Harry away. He hoped this would make it easier for him and for Harry to move on.

"I'll uh… I'll leave the keys with Mel once I'm done collecting my things," Draco said, no longer able to look Harry in the eye. "Thanks again" were Draco's last words before he turned to leave Harry's office. Deep inside, he hoped that Harry cared enough to follow him, hoped that Harry felt the same way he did.

  
 **20 – second place has never carried me home**  
 _word prompt: destiny_

The houses along Carterhatch Lane looked fairly alike and Harry felt utter relief when he finally found the one that bore the address Hermione had given him. Forty Hill was hardly the place where he expected Draco would live. It wasn't exactly a neighborhood for the rich and pure-blooded but it seemed peaceful and simple. He wasn't at all surprised when Hermione told him that several wizards had formed a community in this area.

Harry parked his hatchback along the pavement, took a long, deep breath before stepping out of the vehicle. Draco's house seemed empty but Harry still tried to ring the doorbell. When there wasn't any response, he decided to settle on the top step of the stairs and wait.

It wasn't long before he heard a 'poof' sound, faint but perceptible, like someone had apparated inside.

Harry bolted up on his feet. Thrill coursed through his body, making his heart race. Too excited to think, Harry ended up rapping on Draco's door.

The expression that rolled out on Draco's face was priceless when he finally pulled the door open and saw Harry outside – most likely looking like he just fell off of his broom.

"Harry? What the—"

"I had to see you" slipped out of Harry's mouth before he could even compose himself, cutting Draco off in the process. "I just—I…"

"Come inside," Draco said, jerking his head. His face was a perfect dichotomy between calm and confusion.

Harry's eyes swept around the small living room area, cataloguing the simple yet beautifully crafted furniture, and said, "I'm sorry to come unannounced." He heard Draco snort behind him.

"Yeah, because that's my job" was Draco's reaction and he sounded amused more than sarcastic. "You want to take a seat?"

That wasn't probably a good idea. It would only provoke Harry's nerves so Harry shook his head, said, "No thanks, I…" The words swam in Harry's head as if they had been caught in a whirlpool and Harry couldn't form a phrase in his mind coherent enough for Draco to understand so he stumbled around and stuttered, "I uh… Well, I came be-because… Y-you know, I um…"

Harry had been too focused on trying to utter what the bloody hell he meant to say that he hadn't notice Draco took a few steps closer. He only noticed their close proximity when he felt Draco's hot breath against his face and Draco's cool fingertips against his chin.

"I'm listening" was all the encouragement Draco had to offer to help Harry strip off every layer of uncertainty.

After a few calming breaths, Harry sank on the couch, propped his elbows on his knees and said, "I left the wizarding world five years ago because some time after the war, when you helped us reform the school, I uh… I fell in love with you."

Harry looked up in time to see Draco's eyes widen but his bewilderment didn't last long. Draco's lips soon stretched into a lazy smile. "You fell in love with me?"

"I was scared, alright? I didn't expect I'd feel that way. I was afraid you would just laugh at me if you found out," Harry said abruptly, heat spreading across his face. "I uh… I managed to move on, lived a normal life, until… until you showed up at my place." His ears felt as if they were on fire. "And somewhere along the bonding— your healing process, the feelings that I thought were long gone returned. And…and…"

"And I was the one who left this time because I fell in love with you and was afraid you wouldn't feel the same way." Draco listlessly dropped on the spot next to him.

"Right. That's why I had to see you, to tell y—" Harry whipped his head so suddenly that he could have had a bad case of whiplash. His eyes grew wide behind his glasses. "Y-you what?"

"You heard me, Potter. You are not going to make me say it again." The look on Draco's face might have morphed into a smug façade but the smile that sat on his lips seemed genuine and weren't feigned at all.

The room started to move out of Harry's focus and there was this fistful of air that blocked his eardrums, which made him feel like he was underwater or… or something. "I uh… Maybe I should leave."

Harry bolted out of the couch but barely managed to go far when Draco grabbed his wrist, said, "No! Please just…" and the tide of emotions that flowed through Draco's gray eyes made it hard for Harry to resist. "I… I know it's a huge decision to make, Harry, but…" Draco leaned closer and literally breathed down Harry's neck. "You can think this through, of course, but maybe you'd like to consider coming back, work for the Ministry like you planned before and… and maybe come live with me?"

"I…" Harry's heart hammered violently against his chest. With the last shard of courage, he met Draco's eyes and their gazes locked. The sincerity that undulated on the surface of Draco's gray orbs was overwhelming enough to chase away the shadows of trepidation and uncertainty that cloaked Harry's heart.

Harry raised his hand – no longer weighed with the obligation of helping Draco heal or… or not even with the fear of consequences – and pressed his palm against the side of Draco's face, stroking Draco's cheek with his thumb. He wanted to tell Draco _'I love you'_ , but his tongue felt so thick that the words refused to form.

Draco likewise lifted a hand, brushed away the strands of hair that fell over Harry's forehead and caressed Harry's cheek with the back of his fingers. Harry wasn't sure if it was only his imagination, but he felt the touch of Draco's mind, could almost hear Draco saying _'I love you, too'_ , could almost see the shafts of green and gray entwining like two souls meant to be one.

When their lips met in an unhurried kiss, a sense of security enveloped Harry in a warm embrace. For the first time in many months, since Draco walked back into his life, Harry felt that he was finally home.

  
 **~ the end ~**

 

 


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